As Normal As Things Can Be When Werewolves Exist
by InTheArmsofaTheif
Summary: -One Shot- Everything was going well, until Stiles tripped over a body.


Everything was going well, until Stiles tripped over a body. For the entire summer everything had magically been normal, or as normal as things can be when werewolves exist. No one was dying randomly, no new creatures to fight, no new pack to deal with. There was even a truce with the hunters, with Allison and her dad staying in town to keep an eye on things. For the first time in what felt like forever Stiles was breathing easy. And then someone was rude enough to leave a body behind.

And not just any random dead person. No, that horrifying sight would have been bad enough. Instead, for the few mind numbing moments after falling, Stiles had stared at the girl in panic, his pulse racing and making his ears ring. Despite his stupor, he identified the black veins crawling up her neck from under her shirt leading to a bullet wound on the girl's right shoulder. After the time Stiles almost had to cut off Derek's arm, he would never forget what aconite poisoning could do to his furry friends. Once his brain started moving again, he was up and frantically punching the buttons on his phone. "Dude," he said once Derek answered, "we have a problem."

"Stiles."

He could practically hear the annoyed glare.

"No, I'm not joking around. I just tripped over a body like, a dead body. A dead, werewolf body. And she's dead. And it was definitely a hunter because-"

"Where are you?" Derek snapped over Stiles's rambling.

It wasn't long before Derek joined him at the junkyard where Stiles had been scavenging for his super cool idea of- "I really don't care, Stiles. And this really isn't the time," the alpha growled as he knelt to examine the body. They couldn't find any identification, but Derek said she smelled fresh. With the wound being so close to her heart it couldn't have happened more than a day ago, if that. Still, they had no idea how far she had managed to distance herself from the hunters.

"Talk to Chris," Derek told him. "Find out if he knows about this and if there are other hunters in the area."

Stiles liked being the unofficial ambassador between Pack and Argent. He was human and not a hunter and thus the best go between to keep the peace. Well, there was Lydia, but she wasn't likely to do anything that didn't immediately benefit her without a lot verbal abuse going down first. Point being, Stiles liked being useful, but the idea of asking Chris Argent if he recently shot a female werewolf made him feel kind of queasy. Queasier than stumbling over a dead body. _There's something wrong with that_, he thought.

Stiles tried ignoring the clench in his stomach, "Do you think we could, ah, relocate her to the town over? We're not far from the border." Derek raised a questioning eyebrow and Stiles rubbed the back of his neck nervously, exhaling for a solid ten seconds. "I don't want my junior year to start out with another case of dead girl on my dad's hands. He doesn't need that."

Derek nodded in understanding. The less number of supernatural cases the police in this town got mixed up in, the better.

It was getting dark and tomorrow was the first day of school, so Stiles had to put off visiting the Argent household for the night. Once back home, he texted Scott everything. He seemed pretty miffed Stiles hadn't called him to the scene like he had before, but Stiles just rolled his eyes. "Seriously, dude. I know you and Allison have been hanging out again in a more than casual friendship standing. Tell me you weren't wooing her an hour ago." Scott was silent. "Okay, so had I called would you have answered?" More silence from the other line. "And if you had, would you really have ditched possibly dating her again for a dead body?"

"Okay, yes," Scott sighed into the phone, "I see all your points. Whatever. You still driving me to school tomorrow?"

"Yeah, duh."

X

Stiles was significantly less cheery about it all when he woke up as his alarm began to buzz at "THIS IS UNHEALTHY FOR MY BRAIN FUNCTION" o'clock. "Suck it up, kid," his dad shouted from the stairs. Stiles begrudgingly got ready, bleary eyed and yawning, yesterday's events all but forgotten until he picked up Scott. He started talking about Allison and Stiles wearily remembered needing to talk to her dad. Still, it was easily put to the back of his mind as he chatted with Scott.

They had made it to school and were about to split for homeroom when they rounded a corner. And then, for the second time in as many days, Stiles tripped over a body. Rather, this time, he ran into a body knocking them both to the ground. Before his mind could process who it was his mouth was stumbling through a torrid of apologies. Then his brain caught up and Stiles froze. It was the same body, the same thin nose, the same brown hair, the same green eyes. Only the eyes he looked into yesterday were dead. Cold, blank, glazed over: dead. These eyes were very much alive. And very much looking like they wanted to hit Stiles.

"Get off!" she snapped angrily.

Stiles yelped and scrambled to his feet screeching, "Zomibe!" The girl stood, quirked an eyebrow, and called him a freak before walking away.

"You okay man?" Scott asked, looking amused.

Stiles opened and closed his mouth a few times, blinking rapidly. "That was her!"  
"Who?"

He turned to his friend with wide eyes. "That was the dead girl."

Despite Scott's insistence that she didn't smell like a werewolf, Stiles remained thoroughly freaked out. Between classes he spotted her idly chatting with Isaac because, score, their lockers were right next to each other. Stiles hastily texted his wolf friend but got a simple _no _in response. So, that's two werewolves claiming she didn't smell like a werewolf. So, not a werewolf.

But what then? Zombie? Werewolf turned vampire? Ghost? Time traveler? It wasn't until he got his heart rate under control that the obvious came to him.

By the time lunch came around Stiles had three pages of print outs and a boat load of stuff he _really _needed to discuss with the pack. "You all filled in with what I found yesterday?" he asks, words rushing as he sat.

"Yes," Erica griped, rolling her eyes. "Derek told us all to keep our heads down for now."

"Okay, so," Stiles continued, "New girl? Her name's Samantha Lambert."

"Sam," Isaac supplied.

"Sam, whatever. She moved here over the summer and as verified by two noses at this table, not a wolf. But," he pushed one of the papers to the middle, "she's identical to the girl I ran into."

"Casey Lambert," Scott read off the missing person's flyer.

"Ran away at fourteen," Stiles informed.

"So?" Erica asked pointedly.

"_So_," he continued, "we don't know if she knows about her sister. And if Casey was coming here, and something, hunter, pack, whatever, tracks her but finds Sam instead…"

"The pack would know it wasn't Casey," Scott said.

"But hunters wouldn't."

X

Stiles tracked Chris down that afternoon after lacrosse tryouts. "No," Chris told him with a grimace, "I haven't gone hunting." Stiles respected Chris for sticking to the code. Knowing a sixteen year old girl is dead couldn't sit with him right. While explaining Sam and his concerns for her safety, the jarring sound of a fax machine went off.

A BOLO with Casey's photo: known omega, dangerous.

"If they sent this," Stiles said, "they don't know they've killed her." He felt like someone had punched him in the gut. "They'll go after Sam."

Chris promised to get in contact with whoever sent the fax and all nearby hunters to update that their target's been cleared and she has a human twin. It did little to settle the queasy feeling in Stiles's stomach.

Stiles quickly texts the pack. Hunters could be on their way, potentially ones without a code. Ergo, pack meeting at the (partially remodeled) Hale house in fifteen. He had just reached the street before the turn off into the woods when he spotted the epicenter of his problems trudging along the side of the road.

After a brief spaz attack, Stiles pulled over and called out, "Sam!" She stopped and looked up, curiosity and defensiveness clear across her face. "That's your name, right? I'm Stiles, the clumsy mess that knocked you over this morning," he offered apologetically.

Recognition settled in as she asked "Are you staking me now?"

"Trust me, this is pure coincidence. Do you need a ride home? It looks like it's going to rain soon." It was the truth, at least. The clouds had been getting darker all day and there was a weight in the air.

"You aren't going to kill me, are you?" she half-joked.

Stiles laughed at the irony. After some quick banter, Sam hopped into the passenger seat and rattled off her address. It was different talking to her. Suddenly she became a real person and not just the doppelganger of some dead werewolf he found.

He asked why they moved to Beacon Hills. She explained that L.A. had become too expensive when her dad's job got cut. "Luckily Mom drowns herself in work to avoid emotions, so we managed. But eventually we needed to downsize. I think the real reason was so they could leave that house." "Why, what's wrong with it?"

"Too many memories," she muttered.

Stiles told her about his mom. How it's hard to see the light hit the chair she used to curl up and read in. That sometimes it was just the way the kitchen counter looked when it was clean that hurt because he could suddenly recall the times spent making sandwiches there when he was little and she would wipe off the peanut butter he smeared.

Sam told him about her sister. How she suddenly wasn't herself, which Sam could tell even if her parents couldn't. How, not long after, she disappeared. Stiles didn't think she knew about the werewolf part. "There are times I can't even look in the mirror," she admitted as they pulled into her driveway. They exchanged small smiles in a comfortable understanding. "Well," she said getting out, "this has been a weirdly deep conversation, and I don't even know your real name."

Stiles shrugged. "Few do."

She smiled and shut the door. "Try not to run me over at school tomorrow, Stilinski."

"No promises!"

As soon as she was safely inside, Stiles peeled it out of there, late to his own pack meeting. When he finally got around to Derek's, the pack had already laid out their safe havens and defensive strategies if the hunters attacked. "She doesn't know about werewolves," Stiles starts out, "but I think we should tell her what happened to her sister. And she deserves to know that her life is possibly in danger."

Derek disagreed. They fight. (Nothing new there.) In the end Stiles agrees to keep his mouth shut, but then things change.

The next day Allison informed them her dad made contact with the hunters. "They're not like us, they're like-," she cut herself off before mentioning certain deceased members of her family. "They don't believe that Sam isn't Casey or that Sam is human. And they've heard about the Hale pack. They said that if we've let a pack live, we're probably just hiding Casey." Her eyes were wide with fear. "They're headed this way."

Stiles decided to screw Derek's orders. Too many people had gotten hurt before because they were involved but didn't know it. Stiles wasn't going to let it happen again and went looking for Sam, finding her in the library.

"Hey, congratulations," she says when he sat down.

"What?"

"I have Finstock for first period," she said. "He posted the lacrosse roster on his door and somebody yelled 'I can't believe Stilinski made first line' so…."

Stiles's face dropped. He had completely forgotten. He kept darting between hysterical glee and wait-no-concentrate-this-is-serious. He was so stunned, he didn't notice when she got up.

"Sorry, gotta go. See ya later, I guess."

He found her again, this time talking to Isaac at their lockers. Stiles grimaced, knowing he couldn't say anything without Isaac interfering. Fortunately, he was in for a bit of luck. His baby needed gas, and Sam came walking out of the minimart just as he pulled up to the pumps. Stiles threw the jeep into park and rushed up to her, a frantic bundle of nerves controlling his actions. She raised an eyebrow at his obvious haste. "Are you sure you're not stalking me?"

He waved the question off, trying to hold is brain together long enough to _think _before speaking. His mouth proved too quick. "You're in danger!" he blurted, but she clearly was not convinced. "It's about your sister. She's dead. I'm so sorry. I found her. There were people after her who think you're her and-,"

"This isn't funny," she snapped, shutting him up. "I thought you might be an okay guy but what the hell man?"

Stiles floundered for a moment, knowing he sounded crazy as he continued talking. "That's why I called you a zombie! I had just seen you dead, but it was Cas-," this time he was cut off by a sharp slap to the cheek.

"Don't." Stiles heart plummeted seeing the tears forming in her eyes. "You're sick," she spat.

It hurt. It hurt so bad knowing he had hurt her. He didn't know what to do, what to say to make her believe him, to make her not cry. In the second it took to recompose himself she was storming away.

Then there was a flash and a yell. Sam's voice cried out in pain and as Stiles blinked the blindness away he spotted her clutching her shoulder, where an arrow was now sticking out.

He raced to grab her hand. "RUN!"

They didn't get far before being cornered by men with bows drawn and guns cocked. Sam began to hyperventilate, her body shaking as Stiles tried to shield her behind him.

"Back away from the wolf," one of them sneered.

"She's not a wolf!" Stiles insisted. "You already got your target!"

Sam frantically looked between Stiles and the men with weapons. "They killed my sister?" she whispered, locking eyes with the one who spoke. "YOU KILLED MY SISTER!?" Her voice was raw and tears streamed down her face. Some of the hunters shifted uncomfortably, unsure if this was truly their quest's twin. But one of them stayed firm. "Step away from the girl, or I'll shoot you both."

A gun fired. Stiles flinched, but then there were shouts and _growls. _Prying his eyes open, Stiles watched dumbstruck as Chris Argent and Derek Hale fought side by side to save them. Minutes later the six strangers were on the ground, some unconscious, one bleeding from a bullet wound at his arm. Sirens were heard in the distance.

"Go," Chris instructed Derek before turning to Stiles. "You don't want to be here when your dad shows up." Stiles gulped hard and nodded vigorously as Chris explained that Sam had to stay for the story to work. With a wayward glance, he left her. Chris came to Sam's side as the sirens neared, booming in her ears. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and coaxed her eyes to meet his.

"You were attacked by these men," he told her, something which couldn't be disputed by the arrow that was still lodged in her shoulder. "I saved you. There was no one else here."

She nodded dumbly but understood. Sam had seen that other man change. She had been called a werewolf. It didn't take a genius to realize what was going on, just a mind strong enough to not go insane.

When the police arrive, she didn't have to say much before being rushed to the hospital, but the Sheriff rode with her. He had just come from her house, giving the news to her parents that Casey had been found.

"I know," Sam lamented, "those men killed her."

X

A week later she returned to school with her hair bleached white. "I needed to change," she explained to Stiles at lunch. "I couldn't do that to myself anymore. Looking in the mirror and seeing her." She then thanked him for his valiant efforts and apologized for slapping him. "But, I hope you don't think that just because you played knight in shining armor that I'm going to fall head over heels for you."

Stiles laughed with his goofy grin. "Nah. I'm totally in love with Lydia."

Sam quirked an eyebrow, something that was becoming a bit of a trademark for her. "And here I thought you were going to laugh because you're gay, what with the way you were looking at tall dark and broody." Stiles nearly choked on his milk. "But, hey, I was in shock at the time and everything was blurry from crying," she smirked.

"Let's talk about _your _love life," Stiles suggested, taking a way too large bite of burger.

She smiled. "Well, there's that tall friend of yours who has cheek bones carved by angels."

Stiles narrowed his eyes. "You do know he's one of them, right, and can hear everything you say?"

Sam just continued to smile. "Oh, I know."

Stiles chanced a glance at Isaac. The wolf's blush reached the tip of his ears.

Now this was the kind of drama Stiles could get behind. The semester looked promising and, for a while, everything was going well.

Then, during some college tour, Stiles ran into another alpha…


End file.
